Cold Days Hot Nights
by Zane Longsharks
Summary: Follow the adventures of Tommylee Sawyers one of magical Chicago's most notorious hitman as he is hired by Chicago's most infamous Mobster to remove a former alley that has finally become more troublesome than useful: Harry Dresden. Tommylee finds out the hard way that the notorious wizard is not so easily killed.
1. Prologue

((Okay this is my first Dresden File fanfic. I have a mad love for the series and Jim Butcher rules! As usual I don't own anything Dresden related except my Original character etc etc.))

Have you ever been Cold? Not cold but Cold. Think about Greenland cold, or the North Pole cold, and multiply that cold by about ten thousand and then you might have an idea of an idea of what I am speaking of. Imagine a cold that seem to touch at your very soul and then you might have an idea of an idea of what I am speaking of. Definitely not a winter wonderland, maybe its mean older cousin that just got released from prison. No, I reckon you haven't ever felt anything like that. Lucky you. Believe me its not a good feeling, but few feelings in Queen Mab's wintery realm are. I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear my eyelashes of the accumulated snow flecks that had gathered there as the blizzard continued. Something definitely had old Mab's panties up in a bunch if this storm was anything to judge from. Needless to say that sucked ass for me, freezing to death would not help my mission and was not in any way fun either.

_Do you think the Winter Queen knows of our coming? _

The voice which sounded in my head spoke perfect English with just the faintest hint of a lilting accent as if she was about to burst into song at any moment. Pleasant as her voice was I gave an involuntary shudder as I always did upon the intrusion into my mind. Necessary as it was, 'hearing voices' was never a good thing. Especially when they were asking such scary questions. _Nay, _another voice mentally answered before I could. This one was low, rumbling, and definitely masculine; carrying with it an edge of superiority. The voice of a Fae was unmistakable._ Queen Winter has never been overly subtle, least of all here in the heart of her domain. Knew she of our quest in her torture chambers now we would be. _

_I would thank thee both to shut the fuck up,_ I mentally snapped in my worst Old English imitation. The two voices fell silent but I could feel their dislike for me over the mental link that we all share. Hey, tough turkey. I was not usually so cross but I was colder than I had ever been in my life, I was scared shitless of what would happen if happen if something went wrong, and most importantly I didn't like people talking in my head. Too many episodes of Psycho Circus, but there it was.

We continued our walk in silence for a few minutes, walk being an understatement of course. You didn't walk through knee high snow, you forced your way through it. Slow work that was exhausting beyond believe but there was no alternative that wouldn't draw us attention and by extension a painful death or worst.

_Hurry up Man! _The male voice said impatiently, _You're falling behind. _

I promptly replied by telling him to go somewhere and do something which caused him to growl in anger. I smirked in satisfaction and rubbed my gloved hands together trying to get back some feeling into them without success. How long had it been since we had entered Faerie? No more than a hour, two at max. But time in the Nevernever was not tantamount to time back home. All those old fairy tales like rip van wrinkle and sleeping beauty were based on that truth. A few hours here could be days back on earth. Which means there was a good chance I was going to miss Kayla's audition, I winced as I briefly imagined what choice words she would have for me if that happened.

_The snow, _said the female voice uneasily. _Tis stopping. _

She was right, the snow was easing up. I could actually see for more than a few feet now. That could be a very good sign, but it could also mean something deeply sinister. I told myself that I believe the first but the deep sense of unease upon me informed me of my true feelings. I wasn't fooling nobody, odds are that something very detrimental to my health was about to happen. God, the world sucks. I sighed and loosened Victor in its scabbard, making it easier to draw.

The snow had stopped completely now revealing the barren wasteland that was Winter's part of Faerie in all its barren glory. To the West and East there was nothing except miles and miles of undisturbed snow. To the North, the direction we were currently heading, there was a rock field. We were close enough that I could see that some of the boulders were thrice my size and all frosted over with ice. A wind began blowing that sounded too much like groans of despair for my liking. I shivered, this time with more than cold. Men this place was creepy.

"We're being hunted." The male voice said out loud.

I turned and looked at him, seeing him for the first time since before we entered Winter Faerie. Even though he was a Centaur, Proudfoot could only be described as lordly. Yes, he was an actual Centaur. From the waist he was smoothly grafted onto the body of crimson red horse. The hair which fell down to his lower back was lighter than that of his horse body but was still a fiery red, as were his brows and his great bushy beard. His face was handsome if a bit haughty, with a long straight nose and a low forehead. His eyes were emerald green and were currently darting from side to side seeking something.

"Can you tell what it is?" I asked a bit hoarsely, animosity forgotten in the face of this current threat. Before he could speak the question became academic when the snow directly before me exploded upwards and a dark blur hurtled for me as swift and irresistible as a bolt of lighting.

Even as fast as I leapt back my attacker was faster. I suppose I could make excuses about the cold clouding my senses and the snow impeding my movements. But it really didn't matter. The fact of the matter was that I didn't avoid the blow and the beast, whatever it was, crashed into my chest with about a thousand tons of force and I flew backwards for a good five feet before slamming down, hitting my head hard upon a rock. I grunted as stars exploded before my vision while agony raced through my skull. The whole goddamn snow field was bare of anything when we were walking through but _of course _I would end up hitting my head on a rock! I looked down cross-eyed and still a little daze. What I saw caused me to stiffen. Something was standing on my stomach. It roughly resembled a black bobcat except for subtle differences, the head was shaped vaguely different, the fur was courser, the paws just a bit wider. But most noticeably it looked like it was on steroids, its fur stretched tightly over corded and powerful muscles. If there was ever a Hercules of cats, then it would be this one standing on my chest. Its cat eyes gleamed in the watery sunlight and it wore a Cheshire grin. It was a Malk. Not one of the most powerful of the Unseelie Fae but undeniably deadly, especially in situations like these.

"Intruders," it said. Its voice was soft and mewling with just the hint of a hiss upon the s, exactly what you would expect a cat's voice to sound like if it could talk. "Your lives are forfeit for this trespass. Die!"

Yikes, a bad guy without a fetish for gloating and long drawn out speeches. What is the world coming to? The Malk pushed off my chest, its razor sharp claws shredding my heavy fur coat and the thick leather jacket beneath it to rake deep furrows lengthwise along my abdomen causing me to scream, and lunged for my throat. I thrust out a hand to intercept its cruel fangs, knowing that it would hurt like a bitch, but there was little else I could do until I had had a chance to focus my powers. However, I needed not have bothered for just then a feathered arrow slammed into the Malk's side and it tumbled off me with a yowling cry of pure undiluted pain. I took the chance to scramble to my feet and give my savior a grateful nod which I instantly regretted as it caused my already throbbing head to protest even more. The woman who had just kept my hide whole was a few inches taller than my six one, and was the epitome of feminine perfection. Pale skin that seem to give off a ruddy glow, curly locks of gold set in a attractive page cut, a banging body with breast any porn star would kill for, and deep soulful gray eyes the same hue of storm clouds. She was currently utilizing a longbow to devastating effect, shooting and reloading so fast that her hands blurred. It was only during times like this that you could tell that Allana was definitely not human.

I had no more time to admire her because out of the corner of my eye I could see two blurs heading straight towards me. Time to play rough. I closed my eyes and drew the long sleek katana from its cloth of gold scabbard and held it overhead admiring the way the watery sunlight caught upon the perfectly made blade. Pure power suffused my body, flowing up from my hand where it contacted the hilt. It was better than any drug, better than any sugar rush, it was a shot of pure adrenaline that made you want to jump up and run and fly all at the same time. As always a host of unbidden images flooded through my mind like a tsunami. Memories of the final moments of the sword's millions of victims. Only years of practice kept me from falling to the ground and writhing around under the torrent of death, destruction, and blood so intense that I could almost feel the bloody end of every unfortunate soul. The whole event only took about three second, and when I opened my eyes again the world was different. Not so much changed as revealed. It was as if though a film had been removed from my senses. Everything was clearer. Smells were sharper. I could almost count the hairs on the backs of the two Malks that were streaking towards me, their fangs and claws gleaming cruelly. I was no longer afraid, the playing field was as level as it was ever going to be. It was time to start hacking and dicing. I ran to meet the duo with a great yell and I had barely raised my sword when they were upon me. My katana leapt forward, still gleaming in the half light of the above sun. It was amazing how during a life and death struggle the mind could find time for the most unimportant and useless of details. For instances how beautiful one's sword truly was. Almost two feet long and curved slightly. A writhing dragon was engraved upon the ancient bamboo hilt, and another one towards the edge of the blade. Perfect for thrusting and even better for cutting, deadly in the hands of a good swordsman as its very violent history could testify to. The blade had seen and assisted in the rise and fall of nations for almost a thousand years, and in that time it had spilled the blood of thrice that number of people. It was Masamune's Lost Creation, Dijimono Masamune, the Blood Eater. It was my most prized position, Victor. And it was about to have its fill again.

The blade met the first Malk who had leapt towards me in midair and sheared through its torso. The two parts of its body fell to the ground with a wet thud and I allowed myself a feral smile. Score one for me. I pulled back and lunged forward towards the second cat but with a hiss it dodged under my sword and slammed into my right leg, throwing me off balance. I staggered back and before I could counteract fangs sank deeply into my calf. White hot pain seared up my leg and I screamed out for the umpteenth time. With an angry yell I swiped down at the Fae who managed to leap out of the way a split second before I could behead him. I pursued lunging and swiping. It was not enough that I was cold. Now I was cold, had a nasty headache, and was bleeding from multiple wounds to booth. Someone had to pay for this, and that damn Malk was as good a target as any. A shifting of the air to the right warned me of incoming doom. I managed to turn my body to the side in time to avoid getting my face ripped clean off by another pouncing Malk; the breeze of its passing rustled my hair as it missed me by inches. That had been way too close for comfort, I thought as I drew back from the duo of Malks. They didn't give me a chance to recover, with yowls of what could only be anger they both rushed me simultaneously.

The smaller of the duo reached me slightly ahead of its kin and lunged for my face once more, it seemed to be a favorite tactic. I caught it in midair upon the tip of my blade and tossed it aside before turning to face the other…..to find that the other was dead. A feathered shaft sticking out from its skull and steam rising from the wound as the iron arrow head steadily burned away at the Fae flesh. Just like that, the fight was over. I looked around just to make sure and saw only broken and dismembered bodies, many times the corpses were feathered with multiple arrows. The snow all around was a crimson slushy.

"Iron." Proudfoot rumbled as he clopped towards me, eyeing my unsheathed blade with a mixture of loathing and fear. "Not even Winter Fae deserve so gruesome a death."

"Stow it." I said. I took a deep breath as I sheathed blade. Weariness struck me like a truck as I shut off my supermode. My knees buckled and I collapsed with a grunt, blackness swimming at the edge of my vision. I couldn't allow myself to lose consciousness, I wouldn't put it pass my companions to leave me here if I did.

"What are you doing Man?" Proudfoot demanded. "Tis no time for resting. If yon Malks were indeed pledge to Frost Queen's service then their deaths she would have felt."

"Meaning that our cover is effectively blown," Allana said before muttering something under our breath. 'We've got to continue moving. Now."

"Give me a sec." I said holding out one hand in a stopping gesture. My voice was rough with tiredness. I could draw upon the sword at any time. It effectively granted me greatly enhanced speed, strength, agility, durability, etc. But yup, you guessed it there was a price. It was a bit comparable to energy drinks and the resulting sugar crash, but on a nuclear scale. Pushing your body way pass its capabilities tended to leave you a wee bit on the tired side. It was a hypothesis that I never planned to test that if I drew upon the sword for too long I would finally meet the old man with the scythe. Luckily no fight I got in seem to last more than a few minutes. From a long ways off there was a rumbling sound somewhat akin to an avalanche or a landslide, whatever it was I didn't think that it was good news. I struggled to my feet my breaths coming in little gasp.

"We've got to go now." Proudfoot urged before turning and cantering off. Allana looked at me hard for a long second before turning and following suit, running with long graceful strides that reminded me of a hind. I took a deep breath and followed them as best as I could. Which essentially mean I staggered all over the place and tried to keep my body going on a forward course. As I continued my shuffling trot I couldn't help but reflect on the events that had led to me being here in one of the most godforsaken places in existence. Now that was a story.


	2. Chapter 1

The car was waiting for me when I stepped out of my home on a 110th West. Seven o clock. Sharp. I couldn't help but respect people who could reach at precisely the appointed time. In my line of work timing was everything and I had tended to carry that on into everyday life. Meaning that generally I had a big problem with tardiness. So sue me. The car itself was no rare beauty, merely a sleek black Lincoln Town Car. Powerful and nondescript. It could belong to any one of Chicago's many men of wealth. As I approached the vehicle, the passenger side door opened and a man exited. In sharp contrast to the car, this man was anything but nondescript. He looked like a professional body builder turned successful business owner. He was freaking huge. His arms were about thrice the size of mine, and it was possible that he outweighed me by at least a hundred and fifty pounds. Whatever else happened, _avoid a hand to hand confrontation with this guy at all cost! _ His bright red hair was cut short and his blue eyes narrowed as they took me in. The man's expensive tailored suit looked like it was in danger of ripping at the seams at any minute. I glance down to his jacket where the bulge of a gun was a bit obvious alongside his great bulk. I gave him a little nod. I wasn't really afraid of him, if worst came to worst I could certainly fillet him. But if there was one lesson that my old sensei had taught which I had learned well was that only a fool fought when there was no need to fight. The big man replied with a grunt before walking around to open the backseat door. I took a deep breath and hesitated briefly as the last hints of doubts flashed across my mind. I had very good reason to be doubtful. Not that I was afraid mind you, but you didn't go swimming with a shark lightly, no matter what assurances was given to you by its keeper that it had just been fed. There was simply no contemplating the mind and purposes of such a predator, and that was what made it so very dangerous. The man I was about to meet was quite same. But in the end, greed and curiosity won out. They had always been my two biggest character flaws I'm ashamed to say. He was offering me five g's just for this sit down and another five g's at its completion whether I took the job or not. I could definitely use that money. That thought brushed away the doubt like a category five hurricane brushes away wooden shacks. Without further ado I slipped into the car's backseat and the big man closed the door behind me.

Gentleman John Marcone greeted me with a pleasant smile.

"Mister Sawyers," He said holding out his hand. "Your reputation precedes you."

The man had a strong grip without trying to make a show of strength, a neat trick. I didn't miss the fact that his hand was hard and calloused as well. It was safe to assume how he had gotten them if half of the rumors I had heard about him were true. What was really scary was that John Marcone didn't look like a ruthless mobster who had gone toe to toe with the last of the Vargassi retainers and come out on top. He didn't look like a man who had drenched the street of Chicago in the blood of dozens of petty criminals and even pettier gangs. He didn't look like a man who now ran one of the biggest most organized and most lucrative crime syndicates in America; and who had influence from here to Washington and back. To tell the truth, he looked more like a retired sailor. He had short salt and pepper hair perfectly groomed and maintained, his skin had that craggy tanned look you see in all outdoorsmen who love the sun, and his eyes were the green of fresh grass clippings. The blue business suit he wore was about five times my rent, and the shoes half as much that. He sat perfectly at ease and confident.

"I didn't know I had one to tell the truth," I replied with a smile of my own. "Learn something new everyday."

"Quite, you and your special sword comes highly recommended." He replied smoothly. At that my smile stiffened and only years of practice and training kept my jaw from dropping in shock. _How the fuck did he know about my sword? _The half mocking smile on Marcone's lips told me that he knew he had had just drop a bombshell on me. Slimy bastard, I thought. Rage erupted in my soul. At Marcone and at myself. I had had fallen for the age old trap of my kind when dealing with Marcone's kind. Hubris. No matter how hard I tried not to, I just couldn't help but look down at vanilla mortals like him. Sure I knew he was dangerous, but the fact that he wasn't Spooky kept me from appreciating just how dangerous he could be. The fact that he had done something that Spooks had been trying to do for half a century came as a cold slap to the face. What's more, if Marcone truly knew that I possessed the Dijimono Masamune it meant that sooner or later I would have to kill him. Well I had always been the sooner rather than later type of person in such matters. I couldn't allow him to prance around with that type of knowledge. If word got out…..a lot of Spookes were interested in the blade, and some of them were really scary.

"I'm told that you are the best at what you do." Marcone continued on as if though nothing had occurred. Rotten bastard. I bottled down the anger and kept my smile pleasantly in place.

"Merely exaggerations," I replied. "They're must be someone better. Only that such a person has yet to show up."

Marcone laughed at that as the car started up and pulled away. It was time to take a ride with a mobster. Lucky me.

I decided to err on the side of frankness. "You said that you had a job for me. What is it?"

"Straight to business," Marcone replied unruffled. "That is to be commended. I will let you know at once that what I propose is no easy task. I have in fact hired three other professionals before you, including Hiji Fung, and none of them have returned. As I said before I have heard that you are the best, you'll have to be for this."

Mixed emotions of heightened curiosity, a bit of grief, and a very real thrill of fear assaulted me. Hiji Fung was a long time rival and a sometimes business partner. We had teamed up several times and if there was one thing I had learned during those times about Hiji was that the Asian bastard was as steadfast as a rock and had a sense of honor just as unwavering, if he had accepted Marcone's job and had not returned it was because he was dead. End of story.

"Tough job," I grunted. "Hiji Fung was as good a thief as I have ever met."

"You worked with him in a museum heist in Belgium," Marcone remarked nodding his head. "Then in another in New Zealand."

Once again the acuteness of his knowledge stunned me. If he had meant to rattle me by this second revelation he had. Like with the sword there was no way that he could have known I was responsible for those gigs. They had been completely private, nobody had chartered us for them. They were something between me and Hiji and a few trusted associates when we had been strapped for cash and faced with a shortage of employers. The fact that Marcone had found out about them meant that I would have to look very hard at the few people I trusted with my life, never a good thing. There was always the chance that he was guessing which I highly doubted, there was also the chance that Hiji had told him which was even less likely. No, the only logical conclusion was that someone from my team was talking to him. Son of a bitch!

"You're well informed." I replied coldly as the rage I have been bottling up since he made mention to my sword once again came bubbling back up. This asshole knew way too much to continue living. It was settled. The only reason I hadn't removed his head from his shoulders yet was out of curiosity for whatever job had killed Hiji, that and five thousand dollars of course. Bills still had to paid.

"I make it my business to be." Marcone replied calmly. "Knowledge is after all power."

"Yes it is." I agreed. "That is why when people garner this much intelligence on me and my affairs I tend to get this overwhelming urge to kill them."

There was the distinctive click-clack of a round being chambered from up front, undoubtedly the big guy. Marcone smiled coldly.

"And when people threaten me I tend to react appropriately."

Okay enough was enough, time to show him that I wasn't a pansy prick two bit thief to be walked over and scoffed at. Quick as a snake I launched myself forward towards the passenger seat and wrenched the gun out of the surprise grip of the juggernaut before he had a chance to react. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Marcone's hand shot towards his jacket but I was faster than he and before he could reach for his own weapon the one I had just taken from his henchman was jammed between his eyes. The car came to an abrupt screeching halt as the driver quickly stomped on the breaks, much to the chagrin of fellow motorist if the loud sounding of horns was anything to judge by.

"Listen asshole," I said calmly. "Listen I_ big guy you move again and I'll splatter your boss's brains all over this window try me_ as I was saying I don't like what I do looked into. You know way too much about me and it makes me nervous, I don't like being nervous. I'm tempted to kill you here just to be safe but killing a client is never good for business, especially at a meeting. Now if you please, you will stop fucking around and tell me about this fucking job before I loose fucking control."

I noticed two alarming things at this point. First was that even this close to death Gentleman John Marcone was supremely and completely unconcerned. His intense green eyes only flickered to the gun once before locking unto my own. I now knew why this man was considered one of the most dangerous men in Chicago, he was completely and utterly insane. Something in Marcone eyes shifted as he continued to stare into my own, it was as if though a door had been locked or a switch flicked or something. It was…eerie. But I knew without knowing how I knew what it meant. Johnnie Marcone meant to kill me. It was no scoffing matter. I felt a cold sweat break out on my back. With every passing second it become more a more apparent that Marcone was human the way a lion was a cat. Marcone raised his hand and my finger immediately tensed on the trigger but the man merely straightened his tie before speaking.

"A lesson in diplomacy would not go amiss Mr. Sawyers," Marcone said in a flat emotionless voice. "But as you wish, Miss Gard if you please."

The car once again began moving forward. I hesitantly removed the gun from Marcone's head and with a quick flick of hand I removed the clip and unchambered the round, then I flipped it over so I was holding the barrel and held it out for the glowering giant. He yanked it from my hand with great violence. Yoinks, so much aggression.

"Tell me Mister Sawyers," Marcone said staring at me. "Are you familiar with the wizard Harry Dresden?"

_Who wasn't? _I'd never met the guy but he was somewhat of a living legend here in Chicago. If I knew people however, half the shit they bandied about him was deeply exaggerated.

"The warden?" I asked lazily. "Not familiar with him but I have heard the exaggerations of some of his doings. What about him?"

"Believe you me that whatever you have heard is probably true," Marcone replied with a bit of smile. "Mr. Dresden may be an extensively shallow minded and weak man but he is an astounding wizard. In the pass he has been of great use to me and my organization but recently his meddlesomeness has proven very annoying."

"He's a member of the White Council." I replied in a neutral voice. "A Warden nonetheless. I won't have anything to do with killing a Warden." I wasn't really scared. I had dealt with wizards in the past and I could do so again if need to. With the help of Victor I was relatively sure that no single wizard would prove too much to handle. But the thing with wizards, as I had found out in the pass to my own detriment, was that the slaying of one almost automatically meant the involvement of another. The wizarding population was a close knit organization, a clan almost. Kill one and a dozen come running. They really weren't keen on allowing people who could kill them to keep on breathing very long either, chalk it up to more wizarding arrogance. Granted that the Council was only a fraction of its former strength, the war with the Red Court and other matters had seriously taken a toll on it. But I wasn't about to start shitting where I had my meals, for the moment Chicago was my hometown. I had no intentions of having to leave it in a hurry with an angry mob of magic slingers at my back.

"I'm not hiring you to kill Dresden Mr. Sawyers," John Marcone replied. "Frankly, unless I am much mistaking such a task is even beyond your abilities." The last was said with a smirk. I saw no reason to respond so just waited for him to go on.

"Yesterday the wizard unknowingly stumbled by one of my recent…projects. He took from there a certain relic of great interest to me. I want it back and I want it back as quick as possible. I cannot even begin to stress the importance of time in this matter."

This was something much more in line with what my reasonableness.

"How long?" I asked at once all business.

"The previous failures has seen that the timeline has been severely depleted. You've got until tomorrow night." He replied promptly.

Jesus Christ! I'd done rush jobs before but this was pushing it. It was a simple burgulary after all but still. The timeframe meant that I had _hours_ to plan and execute this operation and it means I would have to do it without observation. I just didn't move like that. Doing so left an awful lot of rooms for mistakes and unknown variables. I hated the first and absolutely loathed the latter. Since I was dealing with a wizard there would undoubtedly be additional complications as well.

"Dresden is out of town for the moment." Marcone continued as if reading my mind. Good that made it just a tad bit easier.

"How much are you paying?" I replied. That was really where my interest laid at this moment. If the price was high enough then the job would get done no matter what.

"Eighty grand." Marcone replied without blinking. _Dear god that much? _Stars above that was a whole sight of money for a simple burglary. Marcone was rich of course, but one did not stay the crime boss of Chicago very long by just giving away that sort of cash. My mind immediately started whirring with a myriad of thoughts. There was a deep sense of foreboding in my gut that I knew I shouldn't be ignoring. Something was off. But I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"Eighty five." I countered to buy myself time more to examine my instincts more than anything else.

"Done." Marcone replied smoothly and without skipping a beat. _What?_

The car had stopped. I hadn't even realize before now that we had only taken a complete circle around the block and were once again parked in front of my place.

Marcone reached into his coat slowly. At once I tensed up; prepared to rip his fucking head off if anything I could remotely consider threatening came out too suddenly. But from the coat he only produced a manila folder.

"Everything you need." He said simply. He held it out and I hesitated for a moment. A torrent of thoughts still running through my head. I felt like I was on the precipice of a mountain and was about to step off. There was no reason why this shouldn't be a simple job but some gut feeling was screaming to me that once I took this job I would end up deeply regretting. But once again greed won out, before I was conscious of it the manila folder was in my hand and I was exiting the car to one last glowering look by Marcone's oversized goon and a smile a didn't like one bit from Marcone myself. I stood and watched the black car drive off before turning around and heading towards my home already opening the file. It was time to get to work.


End file.
